One Word
by EvilxPineapple
Summary: A collection of short stories based off of words. Chapter 10 Synonym: n. A word that has a meaning identical or similar to that of another word
1. Saccharine

**Saccharine: **_**adj. **_**1. Of**** the nature of or resembling that of sugar. 2. Falsely sweet.**

Italy beamed as he opened the front door to his home in Italy. He giggled and he stepped in, closing the door behind him, but not before wishing the kitten that had followed him home a quick good bye.

"Romano~!" He chirped. "I'm home"

He skipped though the old halls as he searched for his grumpy older brother. Italy found him in the living room, sipping a glass of wine.

"Che, so you finally ditched the macho potato?" Romano sneered. Italy moved to sit in the chair next to him and frowned.

"Fratello! Don't insult Germany. He's really nice and strong and cool and," Italy began to babble. Romano stared deep into his wine glass, twirling the liquid around thoughtfully.

"Drop the act Veneziano." Romano interrupted his brother. "No one's here and it's irritating." He grumbled as he looked up from the spinning red wine.

Italy paused for a moment. Slowly the ends of his lips turned up into a dangerous smirk. He opened his eyes and narrowed them, their amber color cold.

"Ah, I've been doing this so long I forgot to stop." Italy let out a deep humorless chuckle. He leaned forward and poured himself a glass of wine.

"Well, you should remember better. Your cheerfulness grates on my nerves." Romano pouted. Italy sighed and sipped his wine.

"I know. Just thinking about that idiot smile disgusts me." Italy laughed quietly. "But, while we're doing this, why don't you drop your act as well."

Romano automatically smirked.

"What gave it away this time?"

"The pouting. You would never do such a pathetic thing. However, I still don't understand why you chose an act so close to your actual personality." Italy mused.

"It's so that I don't have to prance around like a little girl without a brain. Seriously, 'Ve~'. Where did you even get that?" Romano scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"The same place you got your 'Chigi'." Italy smirked. The conversation stopped as they drunk their wine in deep thought.

"I have to say," Italy said suddenly. "This game we're playing is getting boring." Romano nodded in agreement.

"You'd think more than just one country would figure out our little act." They chortled softly before lapsing into thoughtful silence.

"Perhaps we shout end the game." Romano said. Italy stayed silent for a moment as he thought about the idea.

"Hm. Yes, that does sound interesting. Ending the game." Italy let out an insane laugh. "How exciting." Romano smirked.

"So, who should we kill first? Spain and Germany?"

"Eager to kill your amore Romano?"

"If I hear 'Lovi' one more time" Romano cringed in disgust. "He's just so foolish. I could have killed him twenty times just today. It'll feel so good to finally see his blood spill."

"Unfortunately, we can't kill them yet. If things take a turn for the worst we can always trick them again. They'll be the most hesitant to fight us."

Romano scoffed. "You're just saying that because he looks like that Holy Roman boy."

Italy's smirk dropped. He glared at Romano who simply glared back.

"I told you not to talk about him." Italy hissed.

"He's dead. We killed him. Get over it. We couldn't have him spreading the truth about us. Besides it's not like you loved him for real."

Italy sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yes, but he was such a fun toy. Either way we still can't kill those two yet. They'll be useful later."

Romano sighed although knew it was true.

"So America then?" He asked. "He's one of the world's most powerful countries. If we take him out the whole world will be affected. In addition, he'll get involved somehow anyway, just like the world wars."

"Ah, such a pity those plans went wrong."

"He's also naïve and stupid. It won't take much to take him out of the picture. The only problem is we'll make some powerful enemies in Japan and England."

"But that's the glorious part." Italy smiled wickedly. "We won't let them know it's us."

Romano cocked his head signaling him to go on.

"I doubt it'll take much to get the Russia at the ticked 'capitalist pig' and America ticked at the 'dirty commie'. Just a few words here and there. It sure didn't take much last time."

"Another Cold War." Romano laughed.

"Except this time it won't be cold."

Suddenly a shrill ring cut through the air. Italy looked down to see his phone blinking. He grinned at the name flashing on the caller I.D. He picked it up and placed it to his ear.

"Ve~! Ciao America! Me and fratello were just talking about you! How are you?"

Romano smirked and sipped his wine.

_Woot! I'm writing stuff! I love Dark!Italy, but I love it more when there's Dark!Romano to! Yay! -.- I'm sorry this one kind of failed. It looked cooler in my mind. Well, I plan to have two of these a week but I make no promises. Some will be shorter, some will be longer, and some may be a sentence. I don't know. I'll have some pairings and what not. But,_

_Review n' Stuff please. :D_


	2. Omnipotent

**Omnipotent: **_**adj**_**. Having unlimited power, authority, or force. **

As he rested on the top of the large grassy cliff he felt as though he stood at the top of the world.

He looked out over the land, his land. It had grown so large he could no longer see the ends of it, they extended past the horizon on all sides. This fact made him swell with pride.

This was his country, the Kingdom of Prussia.

A soft breeze swept over the cliff, fluttering both his hair and the grass alike. He stared down below him to see his people fighting an unimportant enemy. He was just close enough to hear the soft echoes of battle cries, yet far enough to feel like an outsider. The swords glistening, flags waving franticly, bodies falling, blood splattering, it all seemed so contradictory to the tranquil stillness of the isolated cliff. He longed to be out there at the battle front.

The calmness made him anxious.

His fingers twitched to the sword at his side, grasping the smooth handle tightly, but he remained. He watched the violent battle transfixed. Each detail of the deathly confusion was captivating.

He noticed with a growing smirk that his people were winning. His pride grew even more. He wasn't surprised; they were his people after all.

His grip on the sword tightened. He needed to be out there.

Yet, he didn't move. It felt as though he shouldn't.

As he stood at the top of the world, he could feel it in him, the awesome power of a nation. He was powerful. He stared at the mortals below him and he felt it blaze. It burned within him. He could do anything, concur anyone. The others would fight against him and his people. But they would never win.

He stood there in silence basking in the overwhelming power.

Then the Kingdom of Prussia drew his sword. The weapon felt right in his hand. His lips twitched into a grin and with a running star and a roaring battle cry he leapt off the cliff, diving towards the war below.

He was the strongest.

And he always will be.

_Yay Chapter two. This one's really short, sorry about that. But I felt that this word matched Gilly. Thank you so much for reviewing. _

_Review n' Stuff please._


	3. Sacrosanct

**Sacrosanct: **_**adj. **_**Very sacred or holy; inviolable **

The church that loomed behind him was surprisingly quiet. The usual songs of praise that bounced off the stone walls, the constant string prayers, the sweeping of robes brushing up against the polished floors, they were all strangely missing. All Lovino could hear was the steady strokes of the wicker broom in his hand.

Swish, swish. Back and forth, back and forth.

It was a calming sound yet, at the same time so aggravating. It reminded him of the tedious life at the church, never changing, everything proceeding in a simple pattern.

Swish, swish. Back and forth, back an-.

The man's approach was not meant to be a secret. The clunking of his old leather boots rang out through the court yard, their noise disrupting the easy pattern of sweeps. He walked casually up to Lovino who stood staring at the ground he had just been sweeping. Lovino paused for a monument, unsure before looking up. He automatically found himself staring into familiar wild green eyes. They disgusted him.

Lovino gave the man before him a disinterested glance.

"State your business here." He demanded. The man's face crumpled into an illusory look of shame and helplessness. It reminded Lovino of a wounded animal.

"I've come to confess my sins." He said solemnly bowing his head in both respect and humiliation. At Lovino's disbelieving scoff the façade quickly fell. The man straitened up and changed back to a teasing smirk. "You don't believe me Lovi?" Lovino glared at the dreadful nickname before returning to his impartial face.

"State your business here." He repeated. The man sighed over dramatically.

"We both know why I'm here. Why ask such a silly question?" The man chuckled softly. "I'm here for you Lovi."

"I will never go with you pirate." He said coldly. The man jerked back clutching his chest as though he had just been shot.

"Awe Lovi you wound me. Now I don't even get a name?" The man sighed dejectedly. Lovino narrowed his eye but otherwise kept his mask of indifference.

"Leave Antonio, there's no reason for you to be here."

"But you're here." The man—Antonio—smirked and walked towards the man in white. "And as long as you're here, I'll keep coming back. Again and again." He moved closer until Lovino was forced to back up. His back hit the wall and Antonio's smirk widened but he didn't stop moving. He mashed their bodies together, their nose crashed, Antonio's arms leaned against the wall and trapped Lovino in. He was so close Lovino could smell him now. He smelled like tomatoes, the sea, and freedom.

"You'll never get rid of me." Antonio whispered. Yet, Lovino remained emotionless, Antonio stared deep into his eyes but nothing looked back. His smirked fell and twisted into a look of disgust.

"What no cussing, no insults, you even called me by my real name. Tell me Lovi, did they finally break you?" He hissed, pushing their bodies closer, Lovino could hear Antonio's heart beat thumping against him in an alien pattern. Still he stared blankly at the pirate. He wouldn't be tempted.

Antonio let out an enraged growl. He slammed his hand against that was next to Lovino's head.

"Speak damn it!"

The last of Lovino's control snapped. He smashed his fist into Antonio's chin knocking him back.

"Don't fu- touch me ba- pirate." He snarled, stumbling over the unsaid curses. Antonio blinked and touched the place he was hit. Slowly his smile came back.

"Ah, there's my little Lovi." He cooed. Lovino cringed and spat at him.

"I'm your nothing."

"Oh, that's where you're wrong." Antonio began to walk back towards Lovino again. Lovino sent him a chilling glare but it did not stop his progress. "You're my everything." He whispered as he grabbed Lovino's chin, tilting it up. He grinned slightly.

"Or rather, everything of you is mine. Your body, your soul, your heart, your lips." He rubbed his thumb over Lovino's chapped lips. "They're all mine Lovi, even if you don't think so." He chuckled before jerking his head closer so that their nose touched.

"I'm a selfish man Lovi. I am a pirate after all. I've been nice, I haven't taken you by force. I've respected your idiotic wish to stay here." Antonio leaned forward and ghosted his lips around the younger man's ear. His voice dropped lower taking on a dark, dangerous tone. "But that that kindness won't last much longer Lovi. I will get you, one way or another."

Lovino glared at the pirate with pure fury but he couldn't stop the shiver of fear that crawled down his back.

"I should have never let you claim sanctuary." Lovino hissed. Antonio simply laughed and leaned away from his ear.

"But Lovi then I may have died."

"Exactly." Lovino spat. Antonio chuckled before pulling Lovino closer just barely brushing their lips together. Lovino clenched his fist.

"You will be mine Lovi." He muttered against his lips and slammed their lips together.

"Lovino!"

Antonio pulled away and turned to were the cheerful voice seemed to by approaching from. He cursed them silently and let go of his captives chin.

"I'll be back Lovi!" Antonio smiled one last time before he turned away. Lovino glared at the retreating back. He shakily reached down and picked up his fallen broom. Slowly, he began his simple sweeping pattern again.

Swish, swish. Back and forth, back and forth.

_Of course I had to do Spamano! I just love pirate!Spain and Priest!Lovino, though I don't really think he's a priest. Oh well. DO I have to raise the rating now that I wrote a cuss word? Sorry I'm off schedule, I planned to have a chapter out every Monday and Thursday but this week I haven't been able to type up the chapters till now. _

_Thank you so much for your reviews. C:_

_Review n' Stuff please. _


	4. Deplore

**Deplore: **_**verb.**_** To regret deeply or strongly; ****lament**

America wasn't sure how the conversation turned so dark.

The air grew thicker by the second; it wouldn't be long before it suffocated him. He was frozen; the only thing he moved was his eyes. They flicked back and forth staring at the nations who sat stiff in front of him. They bit their lip, fists clenched and unclenched, eyes darting nervously. They were all thinking the same thing as him. How did this come up?

Regret.

It was a topic Nations avoided like they did the plague. It brought up to many memories, memories they tried to bury.

Finally their darting eyes landed on England. He realized with a quick shiver he would be the first. He looked to the side, staring at nothing but the floor. America already knew what he would say. England liked to pretend his days on the sea never happened. America was so excited to hear about his adventures as a pirate once. Then England told him the truth. He told him about the death, the innocent blood spilt, how they laughed at the screams for mercy, the burning remains of the towns they grew bored with, the tears of the women they stole, how the water was stained red. England chuckled mirthlessly.

"The things we did make many of today's criminals look like saints." He muttered as his figures twitched his knee.

Their eyes fell on Russia, who smiled sweetly.

"As long as it allows everyone to become one with mother Russia sooner, I regret nothing." Even so America saw him fiddle with the scarf that sits at the base of his neck. Right where America knew the star and sickle are burned into his skin.

Japan shifted his eyes nervously to his Asian family, Korea, Taiwan, china. He quickly looks back in front of him.

France whispered to himself and he wiped a tear from his eyes. "My sweet Jeanne." Sometimes he still pictured her youthful, optimistic face. It helped him move on when he was ready to stop. If only he could see her one more time.

Germany said nothing. He simply touched his forearm lifelessly. It spoke much more than words, they all knew the scar that was hidden there.

Canada stared at his lap, his head in his hands. "I'm sorry America." He chocked. "I'm so sorry." America softly traced the scar that rest right over his heart. America knew he was the one who forced Canada to do that. But Canada never listened.

Italy was strangely quiet; he clung to Romano's side as he whimpered. Romano himself glared angrily at the wall, muttering curses. "…Spanish jerk… French…_essere fottuto..._Roman Empire_….__Cazzo_."

Spain had long left the room; the voices where too much for him to bear.

China stared out the window with glossed over eyes. America wondered how much regret he collected over 400 years. Years and years, he wondered what China regretted most. But China continued to stare out the window, lost in the memories.

Finally their eyes landed on America. He tensed up before slowly opening his mouth.

"Just skip over him; he's too young to have any regrets." A Nation said.

America closed his mouth. He almost laughed at how stupid that sentence was. Of course he has regrets.

He regrets having to see England's broken face as he cried in the mud.

He regrets seeing the dead bodies pile up as he forced his native people out of their homes.

He regrets watching father and son, brother and brother kill each other.

He regrets disobeying his people's first wishes by getting involved with European problems.

He regrets not joining the World Wars sooner and having to see the shells his fellow Nations had become.

He regrets watching his people starve.

He regrets letting his people live in fear of that commie.

He regrets not saving the people the people in the tower.

He was young but he still had regrets. He looked at the Nations before him and slowly he grinned.

"Of course I don't, I'm the hero! Hero's don't have regrets!"

The other Nations automatically began to insult and mock him but he could hear the relief under their tones. They needed him to say that. They needed someone who doesn't regret, someone who looks to the future instead of the past.

He regrets he could only pretend to be that person.

_Woot! It was on time! I actually lost the original draft for this chapter; it was so much better than this. The historical stuff is probably not that accurate, I did much of this off stuff I remember from the top of my head. So sorry in advance. Thanks for the reviews and stuff. Next one will involve Poland! I hope. _

_Review n' Stuff please_


	5. Ogle

**Ogle: **_**verb. **_**To stare at, especially impertinently, flirtatiously, or amorously. **

The sun poked through the gapes in the leaves, leaving speckles of light on the ground. The birds chirped sweetly. Their song with the insects floated through the air. Lithuania sat on a park bench in his favorite park, surrounded by colorful flowers and chattering humans. With his favorite cup of coffee in his hand and not a single sign of Russia, he couldn't have been happier.

Lithuania took a sip of coffee and sighed in bliss. If only everyday was as perfect as this. He reclined back and closed his eye. It wouldn't hurt, he decided, to take a little nap. With the birds singing a lullaby he quickly found himself slipping into an easy sleep.

His slumber was broken by a conversation from a group of loud humans.

"Did you see her?"

"The brunette? Yah, she pretty hot, 8."

"Eh, 6, I'm more of a red head type of guy."

"Dude! Look, her right there."

"Oh shi-, freakin' 10!"

"More like 20."

"Did you see her legs?"

"How could you not?"

Lithuania's fluttered open, squinting against the sun. He could see the group of teens standing to his left. They were wide eyed and they gaped at something he couldn't see. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, looking around to see what they were staring at.

It was a girl they were drooling over. A very pretty girl that stood not that far away with her back turned. Her hand was placed at her hip and her foot tapped impatiently. He could see why the boys were gaping. She wore a short skirt that showed off her legs and strappy heels that only made her long legs longer. Her head snapped back and forth as though she was looking for someone. Apparently not finding them she wiped around angrily till she faced him.

Lithuania felt his heart stop.

"Liet! Like, there you are!"

Poland ran towards him. His skirt swished behind him, his heels clacked against the cement, and his pony tails bounced.

"I've been looking like, everywhere for you." Poland said stopping in front of him. He quickly spun around twirling his skirt. "Isn't my new skirt like, so cute? You won't believe this but the sales lady who sold it to me was like, totally rude. I was like, 'do you have this in peach' and she was like, 'that is peach' and I was like, 'like, no it's not' and she was like, 'yah it is' and I was like, 'no, this is ginger' and she was like, 'same diff'. Like, can you believe that Liet." "

Lithuania sighed and took a sip of his now cold coffee.

Well, there goes that perfect day.

_Yah for Poland and his beautiful skirt. I don't have a rant today so,_

Review n' Stuff please


	6. Trinket

**Trinket: **_**noun.**_** 1. ****a small ornament, piece of jewelry, etc., usually of little value. 2. Anything of trivial value.**

It's been 5 days since it happened. Yet, England could still feel the violent blush of embarrassment as though it now stained his skin. He had to gather every ounce of will power not to curl up in a closet and hide there for a few hundred years or so. The other countries would forget by then. Maybe. However, as the days passed that humiliation changed into furious, unadulterated rage. And it was all directed at America.

It all started when England invited America over for their monthly meeting. He didn't know why he invited the git over; he already knew how the entire meeting would go. They would start out talking professionally, America would say something stupid, England would insult his idea, America would then insult his scones, they'd start fighting and then argue about everything and anything until one of them left or they went to bed. Yet, it would feel wrong not to have them.

The meeting, if it could be called that, had been going like always did, America had just insulted England's tea and he was ready to bring up America's coffee rubbish. But then England's phone had rung. Their fight was put on hold as England was forced to talk to his brother.

But America quickly got bored of waiting and decided to explore England's house. The house was extremely old and although visiting millions of times, and getting bored just as many times, there were still many rooms America had not found yet. He was still hoping for the door to Narnia one of these days. Or Hogwarts, that be cool too. And thus, with the thought of magical worlds just waiting to be discovered, America began his adventure.

It wasn't the exploration that caused the problem; no America went on adventures in England's house all the time. It was what he found on the exploration. It was England's most kept secret. He would have guarded that room with his life. No one knew about this room, not France, not his brothers, and certainly not America. And it was supposed to stay that way. But it didn't.

It was England's unicorn room.

When America first saw the pastel colored room he didn't know whether to laugh his guts out or curl up in a corner after realizing this was the man who raised him. He decided to choose the third option. America went in and looked around. There was everything. Plushies, sculptures, paintings, wooden toys, rugs, teacups, wind chimes, trading cards, anything one could think off and it all had unicorns. America was going to stick around a bit longer when he heard England's annoyed yelling and decided his family call was almost over. He high tailed it out of the room and down the stairs, but not before slipping a small glass unicorn into his pocket. The meeting continued normally, with England blissfully unaware that his greatest secret had been reviled.

He didn't learn about it until the next World Meeting. America was in the middle of some idiotic pitch to solve world hunger when he suddenly stopped in the middle of his sentence.

"Hey, dudes. Did you know Britain has a unicorn collection?"

England didn't know what happened after that, he was frozen with shock. Actually he was surprised he didn't pass out. He barely even recognized that everyone had started to laugh. He didn't snap back until he heard Spain burst out laughing after Romano explained what was going on.

England could handle being laughed at by France, he could handle being laughed at by America, he could even handle being laughed at by the entire UN. But when Spain started laughing, that's when the gloves come off. England stood up and sent Spain one of his special pirate glares. Usually it made him cringe and hide under the table. However, this time he just flashed a pirate smirk back. It was a challenge. Just as England was about to leap across the table Germany got the room back under control.

He had put on a calm mask during the rest of the meeting. He was the United bloody Kingdom for the queen's sake; he wasn't going to let such a simple thing run him out of the meeting. England stayed composed and professional, even when France not-so-discreetly threw the word unicorn into his speech a few times. However, his professional mask didn't keep him from running out the door and flying back to London as soon as the meeting was dismissed. He stayed locked in his house, hiding his face in extreme humiliation. Until five days later when his feelings changed.

It took England two hours of angrily drinking and cursing the American idiot out before an old side of England came back out, his revengeful side. That side had been locked away in him around the same time his pirate days ended. Now, it was back out, filling his head with plan after plan to get back at America. And he must say, he like the way he thought.

England's car rolled to a stop a few blocks away from America's house. In his momentary loss of composer many plans had came to mind on how to get revenge. Fortunately, he chose the most legal of them, braking into America's house and finding out his secrets.

He stepped out of his car and adjusted his tie, running through his plan one more time. America may be an idiot but he kept tight security. England walked to the large picket fence that blocked in America's house and easily jumped it. He landed with a thump in a flower garden in the back yard. Silently, England mourned the death of the crushed flowers as he crept closer to the house. America may hate the cold, but he also hated the heat. That's why during the summer he left most of his windows opened or unlocked and the AC cranked up.

England placed his hands on the window frame and smirked as it easily slid up. He crawled in, landing in a crouch. He scanned the hallways for signs of people. With the coast clear England stood up and made his way down the hall. He examined each door thoughtfully.

"Now which one of you bloody doors hold the wankers secrets?" He muttered.

"Mr. America, is that you?"

England cursed, grabbing the first door he saw, scrambling in, and closing the door behind him, just barely missing Lithuania. England was met with a musky smell and a nose full of dust. He clamped a hand over his nose holding in the sneeze threatening to escape. After he was sure Lithuania was gone he let the sneeze out.

"Ah, git. Don't you ever clean?" England grumped as he took a look around the stone room.

It was a storage room, boxes littered the room filled with miscellaneous items all covered in a fine layer of dust. England smirked, there had to be something in here. He began to move around, coughing as he stirred up dust. He searched and searched for something that he could use against America.

England found himself near a pile of children toys; a checker board, and some colorful building blocks. And there in the corner sat a small wooden box. His heart began to thump wildly against his chest. He approached cautiously, as though if he moved to quickly the box would disappear. With shaking hands he picked the box up carefully like it was made of glass. His fingers slid across the still smooth wood as he traced the familiar diamond pattern. His finger dazedly reached the lid and pushed it open. His thumping heart stopped. England stared at the wooded soldiers lined up in two perfect rows. Their paint was chipped and faded but he could still make our each distinctive painted face.

England set the box down and numbly turned away. He clenched his fists and crept out of the musky room. He no longer though about the incident at the meeting room, all he could do was wonder why America would keep something like that.

_Funny story, this was supposed to be the 2__nd__ chapter except I hadn't written it yet so I posted Gilly's chapter. I've had this chapter planned and half written for weeks and I only now actually got down to writing it. PROCRASTINATION FOREVER! I really wanted to say that England was in a tux and shades when he broke into America's house. Oh well. Thanks for all the reviews and favorites. :3 _

_Review n' Stuff please_


	7. Illusory

**Illusory: **_**adj. **_**1. Causing illusion; deceptive; misleading. 2. Of the nature of an illusion; unreal.**

As soon as Germany cocked the gun he felt the first drop of rain slid down his cheek.

Without his centuries of metal and physical training the gun would had long ago dropped out of his shaking hand. The now pelting rain didn't help him keep steady. But he did it; he kept the gun firmly locked at the middle of Italy's forehead head. He sat crumpled in the mud; he stared up at Germany blankly with a touch of a smirk at his lips. Even as he lay at his feet with mud soaking his clothes Italy still looked at Germany as though he was nothing more than dirt on the bottom of his shoe.

Germany glared into the cold amber eyes. He thought after seeing them several time he would stop being shocked at the lack of emotion those eyes, nothing but sinister wickedness. He also thought he'd stop feeling disgusted when he realized he'd been fooled by this demon. The happy, optimistic, cry-baby he'd knew wasn't there. He may have never been. When he looked into Italy's eyes now all he would ever see was baleful boredom.

Even now, with a gun cocked against his forehead head he wasn't sacred. There were no frightened tears building up in the corners of his eyes like there had been when they first met. Rather he looked amused. As though if Germany pulled right then the bullet would do nothing, like he was god.

Italy wasn't god. If anything he was the devil.

A devil with stolen angle wings.

Germany shook his head pushing the thoughts away and dug the gun deeper into Italy's skin. He winced for a moment before slightly turning his lips up.

"You're looking at me strangely Germany, like I'm some kind of monster." Italy yelled over the rain from his spot in the mud.

Germany's gripped his weapon tighter until the metal bit into his numb skin. He barely kept a feral growl from slipping through his lips. That was exactly what the demon wanted, for him to snap. Germany bit his cheek as he slowly let his words out.

"That's exactly what you are."

"I guess I'm aren't I." Italy chuckled and blinked those sinister brown eyes. "But tell me, when did you realize this? When America was died? Hungary? France?_ Japan_?"

Germany remained silent. Then Italy grinned coldly.

"Or was it when the great Prussia finally disappeared like he was supposed to?"

Germany smashed his leg into Italy's chest slamming him to the ground. Italy laughed as the mud splattered across his face.

"Did I touch a nerve Germany?" He wheezed. "Are you going to kill me now? Your hand's not that far from the trigger, why not? Go on Germany, shoot me."

Germany narrowed his eyes. He moved his finger against the trigger, softly caressing it. He pushed the gun straight to the middle of Italy's head. Germany stared into the cold amber eyes, knowing that it would be the last time he would ever have to look at them. He closed his eyes and sighed through his nose. For a few seconds he listened to the rain as it wailed in his ears.

When he opened his eyes the cold amber eyes were gone.

When he opened his eyes he was met with a sheer look of insanity.

Italy was insane, that Germany knew, but he never looked it, until now.

Italy's eyes were wide, his pupils dilated. They snapped back and forth as though he searched for some unseen monster. His hands twitched nervously at his side as he shook uncontrollably. Through the rain Germany could barely hear him murmur hoarsely.

"No…no…go away…no…go…go…out… get…get out….no…no…longer…go…go away."

A piercing shirk cut across the rain. Italy grabbed his head tearing against his hair "Get out!" He screamed.

In shock Germany stepped off Italy's chest but kept the gun planted on his forehead. His hand began to shake as he watched Italy wither. Italy's hands clawed against his eyes and suddenly he fell still. Slowly his shoulders began to shake.

"Help me Ger…Germany."

Germany felt his heart stop at the familiar tone. It seemed like eternity since he heard it.

"Help me Germany. Help me, help me." Italy lowered his hands. Tears ran down his cheeks as they flicked back and forth, still looking for that invisible monster. "Help me. _He_ won't get out. _He's_ still here. Still in me. Help. Help me. _He_ won't go away. Those things." He voice hitched "Those bad, bad, horrible things. It's _him_. Help me, help me."

Germany was tense. He stared into the amber eyes. There was no coldness to them, not even a frost. They looked just like the careless boy he'd come to care so much about. He slowly let the gun fall from his forehead. Italy jumped at Germany. He flinched but Italy only wrapped his arms Germany's waist and buried his face in his chest.

"Germany, Germany, save me. Germany thank you. I Love you. I love you Germany. I Love you so much."

He felt his heart melt as Italy said those words he wanted to hear for so long. "Italy-"

"Just kidding."

Germany slid to his knees. The mud splashed against his leg but he couldn't feel anything but the searing, inexplicable pain that manifested in his stomach. Italy grabbed his hair and yanked his head up, he was grinning and twilling a knife.

"You know Germany, you're a really fun toy. You never completely trusted me did you?" He chuckled. "You remind me of another toy. He figured us out very easily. I killed him too so I guess this is the only way." Italy placed the knife to his throat. "Bye bye Germany."

Germany stared into Italy's frozen amber eyes. And then the world went dark.

_Ha Ha I killed Germany. I did not see that coming. Ok maybe I did. Here's the sequel to saccharine C: Well I guess need to raise the rating. Anyway do you want to know whose dead by now? Too bad you're hearing anyway. America was killed first, then Hungary, France, the Nordics were taken out all at once, Japan, Prussia, and now Germany. England's currently mentally unstable from losing the three people he cares the most about. China is missing and most likely dead. Russia's arm is torn off after a battle with both Italians (The only known survivor after a battler with both BTW:3). Switzerland and Lichtenstein are still holding their neutrality but Austria came to them bruised and bloodied. That's all that's important I guess. Until next time,_

_Review n' Stuff please _


	8. Immutable

**Immutable: **_**adj.**_** Not susceptible to change; unchanging or unchangeable. **

Italy's little feet padded against the soft ground as he walked through the tall grasses.

"Holy Roman Empire where are you?" He called shakily, searching for the boy. He really wished he didn't have to do this. Holy Roman Empire was so scary. His stern, fiery eyes made Italy want to shake and hide in a corner. But Mr. Austria told him to go find him. Mr. Austria scared Italy much more then Holy Romano Empire and his intimidating eyes.

"Holy Roman Empire?" He called again a bit louder."Where are you?" He pushed past the grass and came to a small clearing near a river. Finally he caught sight of the large black hat that Holy Roman Empire always wore. Italy smiled in relief.

"Holy Roman Empire!" Italy ran towards the boy. He was sitting under a large tree, his nose stuck in a book. Even after he called again Holy Roman Empire still didn't look up from the large book seated in his lap.

Italy stared at him. He was close enough to see his blue eyes flick back and forth across the page in rapid motions. The book must have been very interesting for him to be so captivated by it. Italy scooted closer to the boy till he leaned over his shoulder. He stared at the words for a minute before he turned his sight to the boy next to him. Italy couldn't help but notice his eyes didn't look as intimidating from here.

Suddenly he met those blue eyes full on.

They stared at each other for a moment in absolute silence.

Holy Roman Empire jumped back, letting out a strangled squawking sound. Italy let out his own surprised squeak as he clenched his hands together. Tears built up in the corners of his eyes.

"I'm sorry! It was an accident! I'll never do it again! Please don't hurt me, I have relatives in your country!" Italy squealed shaking.

"I-Italy?" Holy Roman Empire's face exploded into a dark red as he tried to calm his thundering heart. "I-I-Italy. It's o-ok. I won't hurt you." He said hesitantly.

Italy brightened up instantly. "Really? Great! I was so worried! Ve~. What are you reading? It must be very good. Can I read it too?"

Holy Roman Empire froze and suppressed the urge to run away as fast as he could. Instead he sat back down next to the tree and opened his book up again. He sent Italy a quick nod and buried his nose back into the book trying to hide his red face.

Italy cheered. "Yay Ve~." He leaned over and began to scan the pages.

They started out reading but Italy had a problem with sitting still for long periods of time when they didn't involve painting. So, naturally Italy began to talk. It wasn't about anything important. Painting, pasta, the cute cat he found in the field, the gross food at Austria's house, and everything he could think about. Holy Roman Empire only listened at first. Soon however, he began to add in every now and again. That made Italy brighten up even more.

The book found itself closed and forgotten as they talked. Italy and Holy Roman Empire talked for hours and hours; they barely even noticed when the sun started to set and the sky turn a bright orange.

Italy sighed in content as he leaned against the tree. He smiled softly as he watched Holy Roman Empire star at the sky.

"You know what." Holy Roman Empire snapped his eyes away from the sky.

"What?" he asked.

"We should talk like this forever."

Holy Roman Empire flushed at the thought but nodded. "W-we should." He said finally. Italy cheered tiredly.

"We'll never change ok. I can't wait to tell Miss. Hungary and Mr. Aust-. Oh no! Mr. Austria! We have to go!"

-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#

Italy's feet padded against the soft ground as he walked through the tall grasses.

"Germany where are you?"

_I'm a firm believer in the Germany=HRE thingy m' bobber ok? It just all adds up. Like toats man! Anyway, I had gillions of ideas for this word. It started out as an Asian family one but my dear friend SQUARED Mango said I should make it GerIta and I couldn't get the idea out of my head. Don't worry this isn't in the world of Dark! Italy so it's all fluff. It only seems fair I give Germany fluff after I killed him. _

_Review n' Stuff please_


	9. Amiable

**Amiable: **_**adj.**_** 1. Good-natured; friendly 2. Pleasant; agreeable. **

It was snowing again. The snow sliced angrily at his face, numbing his ears and freezing his nose. The wind pushed against him, trying to bite into his skin. It was cold, even by his standards.

Cub brought himself closer as he stared at the snow speeding towards him like bullets. He had always like snow, it was pretty and fun to play in. Now it was only frightening.

Everything was frightening now that he was alone. The forests were dark and ominous, the humans savage and dangerous, and the other animals were now much larger and fierce then they were before. Everything was wicked and terrifying in this cold world of being alone.

Cub made a small whimpering sound in the back of his throat as the forest loomed over him. He moved closer to Mother, curling up against her fur seeking warmth and comfort. But he found neither; the warmth had long left her body, taking with it any comfort Mother could have given him.

He wanted to cry, the yell, to growl, but Cub knew it would do no good. The trees were asleep and would not hear his fright. The only thing making noise would do was attract the predators. He stayed quiet and still as he searched for warmness in the coldness of Mother.

Cub stared at the snow. It whipped past his face so fast it scrambled his mind, turning it inside out. Vaguely he wondered if it was the snow or if he was just going insane. He's seen others go insane. They attacked anyone, even their own mate and cubs. Cub wondered who he would attack if he went insane. After all there was only him.

Finally it all became too much he let out a loud whimper. What would it matter if predators came now? If not he would only freeze or starve.

His whimper grew louder and louder until he was almost howling like a wolf.

The sound of cracking branches made Cub's mouth snap shut. Cub stared in fear at the gap in the trees. He knew the predators had come.

Cub wanted to curl up closer to his mother, to try and hide, but he knew it wouldn't help. He thought about running but they would easily catch him. All he could do was wait.

It felt like eternity just watching, staring into the forest, predicting his death thousands of times. Finally out of the darkness popped a small human head. Cub froze at the sight of the chubby thing. It was smooth and white like the snow, with golden fur on the top of his head, and two purple eyes staring at him intensely. Slowly the young human moved out from the forest and closer towards him. Cub knew he should run, he could out ran a human this young, but he couldn't move. There was something strange about the child, something old and powerful. Yet, that power wasn't what kept Cub glued to the ground.

It was his large open purple eyes. They looked at Cub with an emotion he didn't understand but he felt safe with their gaze on him. He knew this young human was his friend.

The purple eyes flick to Mother before resting back on Cub.

"You're alone." The young human said, his voice almost disappeared in the wind. For a moment Cub wondered if the young human was actually real.

"I am alone too." He whispered sadly. "Will you come with me?"

Cub's mind clicked to a stop. Going with a human, Mother used to say humans were both kind but dangerous animals. They were not to be messed with.

"Who are you?" Cub asked in Human just as mother taught him long ago. The young human smiled.

"I am Canada."

Cub gazed into the friendly purple eyes and slowly he stood up and left his mothers cold embrace. As he stumbled over Canada's face brightened up like the sun. He would be safe with this human, he decided as Canada gently picked Cub up. He cradled him in his arms tenderly.

"What is your name?" Canada asked softly.

Cub stayed quiet. Mother called him Cub but he was not old enough to have a name. Canada nodded sensitively.

"I will call you Kumajiro then. Is that ok?"

All he could do was nod numbly as Canada carried him away to his new home.

_Ha ha, this story does even go with this word but who cares! Wooo! I love Canada and kumawhatzhisface so I thought is should write about how they meet. I basically picked a random word. Awesome right? Ha ha! _

_Review n' Stuff please_


	10. Synonym

**Synonym: **_**n. **_**A word that has a meaning identical or similar to that of another word **

**Salacious: **_adj._ syn. Lustful, lecherous, erotic, France

**Ambiguous: **_adj. _syn.Unclear in meaning, cryptic, enigmatic, Japan's words

**Onus: **_n. _syn. Burden, Italy

**Execrable: **_adj. _syn. Bad, very-very-bad, England's cooking

**Ominous: **_adj. _syn. Threatening, menacing, baleful, Russia's smile

**Alacrity: **_n. _syn. Eagerness, enthusiasm, quickness, America the Hero!

**Euphony: **_n. _syn. Pleasant sounds, melody, Austria's Piano

**Incessant: **_adj. _syn. Without stopping, never-ending, Poland talking

**Sardonic: **_adj. _syn. Mocking, sarcastic, biting, bitter, most of the comments England makes about America

**Cantankerous: **_adj. _syn. Bad-tempered, quarrelsome, England

**Tumult: **adj. syn. Uproar, noise, the World Summit

**Capitulate: **v. syn. Surrender, give in to, give up, Italy's favorite battle plan

**Sanction: **_n._ syn. Give approval to, permit, okay, support, something Germany still hasn't earned from Romano

**Despondent: **_adj. _syn. Having no hope, miserable, hopeless, America's diet

**Amity: **_n. _syn. Friendship, America and England (?)

**Sanguine: **_adj. _syn. Optimistic, cheerful, America, Italy

**Defenestration:** _def._ The act of throwing someone or something out a window, what Germany wants to do to most countries at the World Summit

**Farctate:** _def._ The state of being stuffed with food, overeating, America 90% of the time

**Feat:** _def_. A dangling curl of hair, do I even need to explain this one

**Gambrinous:** _def._ Being full of beer, Prussia 100.2% of the time

**Viraginity:** _def._ Masculine qualities of women, Hungary

**: **_definition/synonym/all around essence._ Prussia

_For funnsies and the fact I made it to 10 chapters I'm doing something different. The last word was made up by someone on the internet sadly. Some of these don't make sense but… Yay!_

_Review n' Stuff Please_


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